I wish I could say that quote is just another funny inside joke, but it's actually a haunting put-down that's been nagging me for the past year. It's a little dagger of self-doubt that cuts right between the ribs and hurts.
A year ago, I had made plans to spend the weekend at Smith Rock with a climbing buddy. We were hoping to do some fun multi pitches while there, the easy classics: Wherever I May Roam, First Kiss, The Pioneer Route. We ran into some friends-of-my-friend, members of the same climbing club that I am a part of, and I remember one woman was very interested in what we were planning to climb. She spoke mainly to my friend and didn't seem to acknowledge me much, but hey, I hadn't taken the intermediate climbing class so my opinion probably didn't matter anyway.
When she heard the Pioneer Route mentioned, the interrogation began. "Who is going to lead the trad pitch? Do you know what you're doing? How many pitches of aid have you led? Do you even know what aid climbing is?" I suppose I should have just let the woman talk at me and walk away, but I responded. For some reason, I felt like I had to explain myself to this stranger. I told the woman I would lead the trad and aid pitches, that I'd started leading the past year and we knew how to climb the bolt ladder with slings, that we were going to figure it out and could always bail if we had to.
"I DON'T THINK THAT'S A GOOD IDEA, YOU SHOULDN'T DO IT, YOU CAN'T CLIMB THAT!!!"
I remember talking the lady down, saying it was only one of the routes we were considering for the weekend, we might get on Wherever I May Roam ("ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN CLIMB THAT?!") or First Kiss ("YEAH, THAT'S A BETTER IDEA!") Finally, with her blessing to climb 5.7, we walked away.
That weekend we didn't climb a single multipitch, we flailed on some moderate sport routes and had an okay time, but our stoke was slaughtered by the woman's comments on our climbing ability. We drowned ourselves in self-doubt. Who was she to judge anyway?
Sometimes it doesn't take much to shut others down. For years, I have felt that I've had to ask permission to get out there and push myself. That if I don't live my life in the "correct way" then it's wrong. I was told it was dangerous to push myself outside, or to take a copy of Freedom of the Hills and practice skills on my own, that you need a class to learn safely.
But the thing is, there isn't going to be someone to hold your hand on the mountain when you end up testing your mettle. Those moments will be yours alone. Training will help, but you need to be able to find the limits of your ability on your own, you need to be comfortable and confident in your skin.
I am tired of asking permission to push myself. I am done with feeling like I need some nine month class to make me into a climber. I am releasing myself from feeling like I need to learn to climb in the "approved way". Instead, I will celebrate my strength. I will celebrate my fear when things get tough and lean into it so that I can let it go and make the moves I need to. I will celebrate my technical knowledge and feel confident in my ability to gauge risks. I will also climb whatever damn route I want to and not justify it.
This summer, I spent three months on the road. I led about 80 pitches, most of them on gear. My confidence and ability has skyrocketed. I am still very much an emerging climber, but I own my ability. A week ago, I took off for a few days at Smith. One evening, my partner and I were discussing routes to try the next morning, and the Pioneer Route came up. I instantly felt this nagging pang of fear in my stomach, wondering if I was allowed to climb the route. Maybe we should just do some sport instead? I obsessively read trip reports and convinced myself I could not lead the route.
The next morning, we packed bags and began the approach hike "wow, that rock looks awful tall, what am I doing trying this? Well, at least I can always bail if it's too bad" I was so ready to bail before even beginning to climb that it was pretty pathetic. But we were already at the base of the route, better at least give it a go, right? Pitch one went up nice an easy, I had no problem finding placements, the exposure was refreshing and the views were fantastic. It was early in the morning and cool in the shade, lightly breezy and we were already so high up in space. Onto the bolt ladder. I reached up and clipped my sling to the first bolt, stepped into the sling and clipped the next bolt. From the belay, the top of the ladder looks so far away and overhung, surly I can't reach it, I'm too short and not allowed to climb this route. But that's a total garbage lie, I'm more than able to climb this route. I am strong, confident, capable, and safe. Somewhere around bolt 12 I realized I was more than halfway through with leading the pitch. Instead of asking each bolt permission to clip it, I celebrated the athletic challenge of stepping up and reaching for each bolt. I was noticing how strong I was, how clipping bolts was a piece of cake. The rising sun began to illuminate the rock, I looked down into space below me and saw all the draws shining in the sun while my aider and slings blew in the wind. I felt so confident and joyous as I clipped bolts and moved upward.
Soon, "fuck you, S*****!" Became my mantra and I progressed upward. You can't tell me what to do, I am the boss of me and I don't need your or anyone else's permission to go for my goals!
Sometimes I wonder if guys get this much blowback when they try things that are hard for them. I personally, know at least three dudes who climbed the Pioneer Route with much less experience than myself who did not face the judgement that I did. Sometimes I wonder if I'd been met with encouragement instead of fear-mongering when I started out if I would be climbing harder stuff today. The thing is, now that I've climbed the route, I can say with confidence that my partner and I totally could have gotten this route last year. How cool would it have been to have ticked Pioneer Route off last year? We would have had a really positive memory instead of one of fear and doubt.
And it sure doesn't take much for those seeds of doubt to grow. And their roots grow deep. Doubt is a hard weed to kill.
And it sure doesn't take much for those seeds of doubt to grow. And their roots grow deep. Doubt is a hard weed to kill.
Mostly though, the moral of this story is that I want to do everything I can to build other people up instead of drag them down. I don't want to be the person in someone's story who was a jerk. We should encourage each other to achieve our goals instead of shut each other down.
